Made of scars
by NeverRoses
Summary: After Godai got out of the hospital, he's feeling ignored again, but he's not willing to do what he did before. So in his apartment, he looks at all the scars he had and thinks about how he got them. GodaixYako.Post-brothers in poison.SONGFIC.ONESHOT.


**Title:** Made of Scars

**Author: **MissingNeurotic

**Summery: **A while after Godai got out of the hospital, he's feeling ignored again, but he's not willing to go through what he did before. So at home in his apartment, he thinks about everything, and looks back on all his scars and how he got them. Angst. GodaixYako Songfic

**Made of scars...**

Godai sighed, looking at the ceiling. He had woken up not so long ago. After confessing her 'love' she hadn't talked or looked at him since. She would visit but reman completely silent, always looking downwards. He never said anything to her and she never said anything to him. He wondered why.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched. Walking to his bathroom his threw off his clothes, getting his pants off just as he closed his bathroom door.

He turned on the shower and stepped in. He leaned his head back, feeling the warm water on his face. He would take a sharp intake of air when the water ran over some old scars. He quickly washed and stepped out, grabbing a twel and wrapping it around his waist.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he shivered, walking into the colder air of his apartment. After reaching his room he picked out his clothes and threw off the towel, speed dressing. Ever since he got out of the hospital, he had taken care of dress over his scars, especially the ones from the surgeries to correct some aftermath of the poison which had scarred because the poison he had ingested wouldn't let it heal properly without scarring. It would be how it would go for a while after being checked out, the doctors had explained.

He looked down at his red shirt, he hadn't put it on yet. He then noticed it was overcast, dark, and raining hard. Walking to the window, he slowly started to put on the shirt. Looking at the many past and recent scars.

_This one came from looking._

_This one opened twice._

_These two seemed as smooth as silk,_

_flush against my eyes._

He pulled the shirt up his arms a bit more, taking time to take in each scar. Two small ones across his forearm.

_This one needed stitches and,_

_this one came from rings._

He pulled the shirt on so he was wearing it properly, yet unbuttoned. He swept a hand over his heart before letting it drop to his side.

_This one isn't even there,_

_but i feel it more because you don't care._

_Yeah, yeah._

_Cut right into me._

_Yeah, yeah._

_Because i am made of scars._

_Yes, i am made of scars._

He ran his fingers along some scars on his mid section. One short on on his left side, a large round one on the right side of his mid section, and one long one that went diagnally for about three inches.

_This one had it coming,_

_This one found a vein._

_This one was an accident,_

_but never gave me pain._

He sighed as he ran his fingers across a jagged scar on his torso. He looked down at a place on the left side of his torso, where he had gotten a scar from a collection job a long time ago. It had since faded away. He still remembered how he got the scar which wrapped around from part of his left side back, diagonally up to just to the left of his sternum.

_This one was my father's_

_and, this one you can't see._

_This one had me scared to death,_

_but i guess i should be glad i'm not dead._

_Yeah, yeah,_

_cut right into me_

_yeah, yeah,_

_because i am made of scars._

_Yes, i am made of scars, yeah._

He smirked remembering some of the fun he made back in the days when he worked for the finacial company. How full of adrenaline he would become once he got into the place he was sent and busted everything up. He was very fond of those memories.

_God, don't you believe the hype_

_God, don't you believe the hype_

_God, don't you believe the hype_

_Don't believe the hype_

He always loved going into places and breaking things until people cried for forgiveness. He knew the rules for stuff like this. If they ask for forgiveness you say 'no freaking way'. If they ask to talk about it you say 'theres nothing to talk about'.

_Don't believe_

_Don't believe_

If he was told to do something by another company, he always betrayed them. He only took harsh lessons from punishment to heart. Keeping those lessons in his mind.

_And i will find a way_

_everything you are, i will betray_

_i swear that i'll find a way_

_Everything you are inside me._

He ran his pointer finger along a small scar on his upper torso, continuing along his torso until reaching a small curved scar just under his right shoulder. He swallowed, moving his hand to the most recent of scars. It was a vertical two inch scar on his neck where they had done surgery on his trechea because of the poison forming polyps there. The poison made it heal into a scar of course. It was starting to rain a bit harder and he stroked the scar, running his fingers up and down the length of the scar.

_This one was the first one_

_This one had a vice_

_this one here, i like to rub_

_on dark and stormy nights._

He then buttoned up his shirt, except for the lst four buttons on the top. He had forgotten how he got the scar on his left shoulder. it was a pale white, jagged scar which ran vertically for about three inches, and was about an inch wide. His largest scar.

_This one was the last one,_

_i don't remember how._

_But i remember blood and rain_

_and i never saw it coming again._

Godai smirked and finished buttoning up his shirt. Besides, he can't spend all day checking out his scars. He went to the kitchen and quickly made coffee, it tasted like shit because of the bad quality of beans, but whatever.

_Yeah, yeah,_

_cut right into me_

_Yeah, yeah,_

_because i am made of scars._

_Yes, i am made of scars._

_Yes, i am made of scars._

Godai quickly finished the disgusting-flavored coffe and went to the door.

_Yes, i am made of scars._

He slipped his shoes and quickly ran to the bathroom to dry his hair with a towel, which he had forgotten to do after his shower.

_That's what i'm made of._

He went to the door. Smirking, he walked out, closing the door behind him. He was riddled with scars, but to him, it was like being covered with trophies. He would bear them proudly until the day he died. But for now, he had to get to work quickly, or else he probably wouldn't be proudly bearing the scars for much longer.


End file.
